


Twenty Minutes

by VexedBeverage



Series: Short Prompt-y Things [6]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, Hatslash, M/M, Yogslash, smornby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-02
Updated: 2016-01-02
Packaged: 2018-05-11 03:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5612764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VexedBeverage/pseuds/VexedBeverage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I received the below prompt from an anon on Tumblr! </p><p>Prompt: "we just had sex in someone's bed when they were in the shower now we have to explain why there's a stain on their black bed sheets" smornby please <3</p>
            </blockquote>





	Twenty Minutes

“Smith-“ Ross protested, voice low and pleading. “Trott could be back any-“ 

Smith ignored the dark haired man’s protests that were, quite frankly, a little weak and continued to grind their hips together. Pulling his mouth away from Ross’ neck he leant back on his haunches. “Trott takes forever in the shower, we have plenty of time.” 

Ross licked at his kiss swollen lips, weighing the urgency screaming in his body against the possibility of getting caught, the thought not really helping to calm his racing heart. 

Smith doesn’t wait for him to answer, instead correctly interpreting the small quirk of Ross’ lips as a decision to continue and capturing his lips in another searing kiss that has them both moaning as hands roam under t shirts. 

Ross gasped as Smith slid to his knees at his feet, tugging Ross’ jeans open with practiced ease and taking him in his mouth almost immediately. Ross leant back on one outstretched arm, the other running through Smith’s hair, fingers tangling into the soft waves as the taller man set to work totally undoing him. 

Smith looked up through his eyelashes at Ross, humming around him as Ross screwed his eyes closed and pressed his lips together into a thin line to stop the usually loud sounds that spilled from him. 

Smith’s hands applied more pressure as he pushed them up Ross’ thighs, one hand leaving the feel of rough denim to wrap around the base of his length. The hand that had been clutching at Smith’s hair released and slapped over Ross’ mouth as his hips started to buck off the bed.

With his hand clenched into a tight fist, the knuckle of his forefinger in between his teeth, Ross let out a small sound somewhere between a grunt and a whimper as his body stiffened for a moment before sagging back down onto his back. 

Smith appeared above him, hovering on outstretched arms with a shit eating grin plastered across his face. “How’s your hand?” 

Ross opened his eyes and let out an amused puff of air through his nose. “Go fuck yourself.” 

“I’d prefer you to do it.” He said with a wink that earned him a gentle nudge of Ross’ fist against his side. Smith opened his mouth in mock offense. “Well, if that’s how you treat me after my stellar performance!” He pouts, rolling to the side to lie across the bed next to the other man. 

Ross lifts his hips off the bed, pulling his jeans back into place and doing them back up before propping himself up on an elbow to face Smith. “So you don’t want me to-?“ Ross asks, trailing a hand under Smith’s shirt and ghosting fingers towards the waistband of his jeans.

“You are such a fucking tease.” Smith grinds out through clenched teeth as Ross pops the button of his jeans and pulls the zip down with deliberate slow movements. 

Ross pushes himself to his knees, one resting between Smith’s legs. “And you’re too easy, Alex.” Ross says meeting his eyes and biting at his lip in amusement as the other man’s eyes darken in arousal. “Do you think you can manage to be quiet?” Ross asks as he wraps his fingers around him, a sharp intake of breath the only sound that comes from the other man. 

Smith locks his eyes with Ross’ accepting the challenge with a small nod before Ross’ hand starts to move, harsh breathing and the sound of skin on skin the only noise in the room. 

All too soon, Smith’s hips start to thrust into the movement, the creaking of the bed adding to the quiet sounds. Ross shifts his body, kneeling next to the other man and pushing Smith’s t shirt up his chest, needy moans rumbling through the taller man’s chest. 

Smith grabs at Ross, pulling his face down to his own as his hips snap more erratically and he comes, forehead pressed against Ross’, face screwed up in pleasure and breathing absent for a few seconds as he holds his breath through his release. 

Ross laughs gently as Smith releases him and flops back to the bed, eyes still closed. 

The sound of the shower shutting off in the next room makes Smith open his eyes in panic, looking down at his jizz covered chest. 

Ross surges off the bed, rummaging in his open backpack for something, anything, to clean up with before Trott gets back to the room. 

With rushed movements, Ross scrubs at Smith’s torso with a t shirt as Smith tucks himself back into his jeans, doing them up and pulling his shirt back down. Ross shoves the t shirt back into his bag as the door opens and Trott walks in, scrubbing at his wet hair with a towel. 

Smith sits up, scooting back on the bed so he can rest his back against the wall as Ross pulls his knees to his chest, sitting on the floor with his back against the wall. 

“Why do you two look so guilty?” Trott asks, not missing the smirk pulling at Smith’s lips. 

Smith raises his brows at him. “Heard you jacking it in the shower mate.” He answers, voice completely serious as Ross snorts a giggle. 

Trott narrows his eyes, looking between his two friends and throwing his wet towel into the basket in the corner of the room. “Did you finish the music for the video?” Trott asks, eyeing Ross’ laptop that is still right where it was when he left, black screen showing it hasn’t been touched in a while. 

“Waiting for you to give it a listen mate.” Ross says, rising to his feet and snatching the laptop up to sit on the bed and show Trott. 

Trott nods reaching a hand out to smooth the duvet out to sit but freezes, his hand a few inches from the black fabric. “Is that-?” He says backing away from the bed with his hands held aloft like he is being held at gun point. “You fucking sick- I was only in the shower for like fifteen-“ He stutters, struggling for words. 

Smith eyes the bedspread with mirth in his eyes. “More like twenty-“ 

Trott’s glare is enough to have Ross shrinking in on himself as Smith just starts laughing.


End file.
